I think a lot about the future. Not what I'm going to be doing. I have a decent idea of that, and even if I didn't, I could still trust that He who has the whole world in His hands didn't accidentally let me slip through His fingers. But there's a distinct uncertainty that held me back especially at the beginning of this school and that I still feel pushing itself onto the edges of my consciousness as I return from my weekend in New York City.
If I lived no differently before, what is going to prevent this from being a few seconds of passing breath and then nothing more than a return to old ways, old life, old settle-for-less-than-nothing? As the seconds flow like sand from a child's cupped hand, even after one month I have the breathless sense of the impending days after tomorrow's tomorrow's tomorrow. Days when I don't spend five days a week in the prayer room, and all that has been is not.
Lord, I have done this before. I have believed that I had all the time in the world, only to find that time was broken and all months end. I don't want to tighten my hands into clenched fists, stuck forever on these precious moments when You revealed Yourself to me over and over in a thousand ways every day. Pry apart my fingers if that's what it takes, lay to rest the anger and bitterness, and into my opened palms, uplifted to You, pour out Your Spirit in greater and greater abundance with every passing day. Laying down my will is a small price to pay if it means the greater peace of trusting You.
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